


possession and disconnection.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Boku no Chikyuu wo Mamotte | Please Save My Earth
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-07
Updated: 2007-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: Enju wonders when did she and Gyokuran drift apart.
Relationships: Enju/Gyokuran (Boku no Chikyuu wo Mamotte)





	possession and disconnection.

**Disclaimer – Please Save My Earth isn’t mine. The poem is.**  
  
 _The world I’ve come to know  
Is one that I made by myself  
to live the way I wanted,  
to love as I pleased,  
only to be pushed away  
for being too strong.  
  
Yes, for being nothing  
but honest  
to the purity  
of myself  
that drips away  
each  
and  
everyday._  
  
 **possession and disconnection.  
By miyamoto yui**  
  
Quickly, I close the door behind me. I look from side to side in an immediate response of oppressive shame.  
“How immature…” I remark to myself but I can’t help but feel my stomach become queasy.  
  
Composed, I walk away from the door with the greenery and artificial program of sunlight. That world isn’t mine.  
  
It is hers.  
  
It is the one he wants to be immersed in. Somewhere far from the quietness of the ocean that I love so much….  
  
Treading downwards on the stairs in what feels like on tiptoe and in twirls, I feel myself become more dizzy from the inside. It doesn’t seem reasonable, but why does my vision feel so scattered even though I’m walking perfectly straight?  
  
Even if my heart beats like a guilty thief?  
  
Surely, I am not sick. I only get sick in the passing of seasons, but the moon doesn’t have any of that.  
  
In a way, time has stopped.  
  
Walking onward, I regain my usual calmness, but I hear my own footsteps on the lonely corridor. Everyone is sleeping. It is my shift after all.  
  
Those I type and research, there is no home to go back to. There is nowhere to go towards. After all, I came here because you were here. But is that enough, I wonder?  
Memories cannot ever contend with what is in the present.  
  
People do change after all. This is life.  
It is the result of passion and love, whether or not we’d like to protest against it.  
  
I pass the hallways and suddenly stop. Instead of going to my room, I suddenly paste my palms suction-tight onto a piece of cold, cold glass. There is nothing but darkness.  
Even if I change the channel, I see a life that is so separate from my own, no matter how much I claim to know what these people do in their primitive state, unless I feel it with all my senses, I’ll always be behind this glass window.  
  
And then I look down at the way I dress. I am in a white gown, without my usual blanket.  
I realize that this is like being an angel. You are allowed to watch but you can’t say anything. You make them feel you, if you can connect, but is that enough?  
  
Even a heart so strong is weak in this vast moment in space.  
  
Kindness to understand is also a cruelty to one’s self. You give while unable to selfishly take what should be yours. It’s because you do not want to be like others who are so inconsiderate. Yet, you cannot balance it to be thoughtful towards yourself.  
  
So even if I want to run to you, I can’t allow myself to call for you. Nor can I go to you at anytime anymore.  
I always feel that I’m bothering you.  
  
While I stayed beside you, you had other concerns. You became involved with an image you wanted to love. The female you seek doesn’t exist.  
Cannot purity exist within the image of being ‘woman’?  
  
Is it my weakness to let you do as you please? For if I protest, it will surely be termed jealousy. So what should I do?  
  
I turn away from the screen of the flashing green and blue to get a drink of water.  
  
As the glass clicks on the table, heavily, I sit quietly with my eyes closed. I listen to a song in my head. I do not sing as well as the one you want to love now, but I too have my own songs.  
  
Yes, I’m sure, I’ll hold you clearly within them.  
  
But somehow, even with my special ability to read others’ minds and the strength of my will, you and I have disconnected.  
  
No matter how much my soul shouts out bleeding while my lips are tightly shut, yes, I’m sure you don’t want to hear me anymore.  
  
In between the small space between my proud and quiet lips, I smile so openly. I pick up the glass of water and place it to my burning head.  
  
“I don’t want to breathe,” I think to myself and yet I must.  
  
In that instant, you show up at the kitchen but I don’t turn towards the doorway. When I open my eyes to look half at the empty glass of water and half at an unwashed plate on the countertop before me, I ask, “Did you need me, Gyokuran?”  
  
No one answers.  
  
When I turn around, a dew drop falls from the glass onto the wooden table.  
  
It isn’t him.  
It’s her.  
  
And she looks at me with a lonesome expression through her usual nervous smile.  
  
“Ah, yes, it is your turn, Mokuren.” I nod politely and grin back.  
I get up and excuse myself, weakly running away to my room.  
  
You aren’t the one I wanted to come.  
  
I don’t want anyone to read my thoughts.  
No one but you.  
  
But we’ve already disconnected, haven’t we?  
  
Looking at her makes me think of myself…  
…so what are you really looking for, My Love?  
  
Gyokuran, what is it that changed between you and me as people, the way we were coming together, and the way we’re growing apart?  
Yes, as I look at that screen again and touch it with my freezing fingers, I watch desperately for the capricious sea that we used to love together.  
  
Ever changing,  
Ever beautiful,  
  
Never touching again what it did before,  
Never returning to what it once was,  
  
Always possessing others’ hearts but never being captured itself.  
  
When did we become like the waves of the ocean?  
  
  
 **Owari. / The End.**


End file.
